The Pains of the Passage
by DoctorWhovian18
Summary: Another short one-shot full of feels, this time set in Moria as an expansion to the moment when Frodo gets stabbed by the orc captain, and what follows. The wound wasn't quite as minimal as the book/movie implied, and the added agony of losing Gandalf leaves Frodo reeling and in need of comfort. No slash, profanity, etc.


**Yet another plotbunny who jumped into my mind begging to be written. This could easily fit into movie and possibly book-canon, as a few sentences are taken from the book. It is an expansion of the scene when Frodo gets 'stabbed' in Balin's Tomb and the true effects of both the injury and the loss of Gandalf. Hope you enjoy ^_^**

 **UPDATE: Reading this back I spotted a rookie flaw: Bill was released before Moria. I have adequately modified the end of this story to fit this lacking pony :)**

He had no time to react before the orc-captain's spear came sweeping through the air towards him, the arm that held the weapon sure and strong.

The blow caught him on the right side, and Frodo was hurled against the wall and pinned. So great was the pain, both from the spear's shaft and the spot where his head hit the wall, that his senses failed him for several seconds in a blackout. When he came to, he had slid down the wall and the shaft had fallen out of him.

No, not out…off. The spear hadn't pierced him, thanks to the mithril coat that Bilbo had given him. It had saved his life.

Aragorn suddenly whisked him up into his arms. Still dazed, it was a few moments before Frodo could speak.

"I am all right." He gasped. "I can walk. Put me down!"

Aragorn nearly dropped him in his amazement. "I thought you were dead!" he cried.

Gandalf quickly shouted for Aragorn to keep his shock until later and told him where to go. Frodo was set on his feet, where he swayed and was instantly supported by Sam. He leaned heavily on the gardener as they continued on their way. His whole left side burned and breathing was painful and difficult, made all the more so by running, so he had a feeling that one of his ribs had been fractured by the force of the blow.

However, despite the pain, he would have rather that than the spear pierced him completely.

He said nothing of his suffering as they met up once again with Gandalf, only explaining that he was alive and well when questioned. But when Gandalf fell and Frodo felt unbidden tears sliding down his face and sobs rise in his throat, breathing became extremely difficult.

He slowed, half sobbing, half gasping, in a haze of grief and pain. At his side, Sam grabbed his arm and urged him on. Then, failing that, he called ahead to Aragorn. The Ranger was at his side in an instant, picking him up once again.

Frodo curled into Aragorn's chest as they made their way into the daylight, wishing to hide from the cruel world that had taken Gandalf. The physical pain melded with the emotional and Frodo found it difficult to distinguish between the two. Many minutes later, when they deemed that they had made it far enough away from the entrance to the mines that they could stop, Aragorn set him back down again.

Gasping, having finally managed to quell his sobs, Frodo swayed on his feet. One hand was pressed to his side, where he knew harsh bruises were blossoming. He turned away back towards the gaping wound on the mountainside that was the entrance, daring to hope that perhaps Gandalf had survived, and would be walking out to meet them, tired but alive.

But he didn't come.

"Frodo, are you alright? You are very pale, my friend." Aragorn's voice penetrated the thick fog surrounding his head.

He turned towards the Man slowly, feeling in a dream. "I am fine."

But his body betrayed him. His legs suddenly crumpled at the knees and would have sent him harshly onto the rocky ground if Aragorn's reflexes were any slower than they were. His sure, steady hands gently caught Frodo and slowly lowered him down. Frodo noticed that his eyes held the attentiveness and kindness as they usually did when he was in healer mode, but behind them was a thick layer of sorrow for their loss.

Working swiftly, he unbuttoned Frodo's shirt, revealing the mithril vest. He sucked in a breath.

"So my guess was correct." He whispered. However, he said no more on the matter, proceeding to lift up the shimmering garment to reveal the spot where the spear had struck. A sharp hiss of shock left him as he beheld the red and purple mass of skin that contrasted so greatly with the pale colour around it.

Even his light fingers sent waves of agony through Frodo's body, and he winced, tensing up unconsciously.

"Relax, Frodo, I know it hurts." Aragorn whispered. Suddenly someone else was there. Sam. Through his glazed vision Frodo could see that Sam had tear tracks down his cheeks, but he put on a brave face as he looked down at Frodo, holding his hand in an effort to comfort him.

"You have a broken rib." Aragorn said. "That is why you find it difficult to breathe. The bruising will heal, but the rib needs to be kept still. Does anywhere else hurt?"

Frodo had felt himself floating away, hoping to escape the pain, so he only heard the question when Aragorn gently tapped his face to rouse him and repeated it. "My head." He muttered.

Reaching around, he indicated the spot where his head had hit the rock wall. There was a small lump there, but Aragorn quickly assured him that he had no concussion. Still, the fact that Frodo seemed to be almost slipping unconscious worried him.

He bound around Frodo's chest as swiftly as he could, noticing how the hobbit winced with each movement and at times even let out a moan of agony.

 _He has already suffered so much,_ Aragorn thought bitterly, _And now the pain of losing Gandalf has coincided with the pain of a broken rib. Will this little one ever experience peace again?_

By the time he had finished, Frodo had nearly fainted. His already pale complexion was white as chalk and a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead, sticking his curly fringe to the skin. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious.

Sighing in pity, Aragorn instructed Sam to bring him a cool cloth to keep Frodo awake, at least until they could get further away from the mountain and set up a camp, where Aragorn might be able to risk a fire and make a sedating drink so Frodo could get some proper rest.

Sam did so, and was more than happy to be appointed the official monitor of Frodo's awareness. As well as pressing the cold cloth to Frodo's neck and forehead when needed, he also constantly talked to his master – who was being carried by Strider as walking was clearly out of the question.

Frodo was only half-aware of Sam's voice, but he spoke of the Shire, so it was a comfort. He longed to slip into unconsciousness, which would have been so easy if it wasn't for the shock of the cold cloth, but he knew that he had to obey Aragorn's command. So he waited until they stopped that night, and was relieved when Aragorn and Sam helped him take a soothing drink that soon lulled him into a blissful sleep free from the pain that was all he would remember of that day in the future.

And, when asked, he would easily be able to say which pain was worse, for it was the one that took the longest to fade. In fact, it did not fully fade until the day that he woke up in Minas Tirith once the Ring had been consumed in the fires of Mount Doom, when he opened his eyes to see Gandalf's face smiling down at him.

 **I seem to be writing a lot of sad stuff lately, aren't I? Oh well, it satisfies my inner love of hurt/comfort fics, especially involving everyone's favourite hobbits. I also wanted to write this because I felt like in the movies (and I say that because I have yet to read Return of the King) it was difficult to grasp the fact that Frodo thought that Gandalf was dead from Moria until the point I mentioned, in Minas Tirith. Each time I watch that scene, I have to remind myself of this, as we, the audience, are used to Gandalf being still alive, but for Frodo it comes as a shock and relief. Hope you enjoyed it :)**


End file.
